


A Crown Of Laurels

by Ribbonshalos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Everyone's names are different sorry, F/M, Fluff, God and Goddess AU, Greek gods, One Shot, dove and sparrow, greek tragedy - Freeform, japanese gods, victory mercy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 17:26:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11879301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonshalos/pseuds/Ribbonshalos
Summary: Nike is the goddess of victory, Athena's right hand. Man's world is nothing compared to Olympus, but she finds the sparrow's feathers beautiful.





	A Crown Of Laurels

**Author's Note:**

> Mercy will be called Nike throughout the fic. Genji is Fūjin. Widowmaker is Aphrodite. Enjoy!

Their mortals worship them religiously. Temples and altars of their most beautiful design encase what they believe them to look like. Different gods receive utters prayers of various wants and needs. Their love feeds their embodiments, and they in turn watch over their thousands of children.

She hears their cries of help in battle, of wanting victory to warm their faces and strengthen their bones. Pleads of swiftness to grace their feet and will to lift their arms are uttered. She is with them, fighting alongside man as they face the spears and sword tips. Her grace falls upon them, and failure takes her children’s enemies.

Their mortals are strong and waxing. To walk with them is seemingly low and humiliating. Gods are supposed to be above their man. Their creators from upon high, looking down on their mistakes and weaknesses.

But the grass and simple breeze woos her to take a mock mortal form. Mortal ground is incomparable to the God’s kingdom resting above the clouds, Olympus. She fears she is the only one to see man’s own beauty among the leaves and stone paths.

Her garb is simple and white, cloth trailing down her body as she rests in a vineyard. Legs curled along her side, the wind rustles the leaves. Music plays among the tree limbs as quiet chirps of birds harmonized with the breeze. Fresh greenery touches her senses as her nails massage the grass underneath her.

It is not the gold and inhuman kingdom where she resides, but it is man’s own wonder.

A sparrow chirps among the leaves. Tittering from branch to branch until its gaze lands upon her. Its tiny body carries a strip of green along the wing tips, black feathers molding it beautifully. A chirp breaks from its beak as its dark eyes tilt, focusing on her.

She extends her hand, fingers curling open in an invitation.

“Do not be afraid, sparrow,” she soothes gently, “Come closer.”

The bird’shead tilts, fluffing its chest for a moment before gliding to her resting place under a large olive tree. Her fingers turn as the bird descends, and it curls its small black claws over her forefinger daintily. It sings a few notes for her, before her fingertips touch its small head.

“You are beautiful,” she murmurs, rubbing its soft cheek. “Will you keep me company today?”

A soft chirp comes from the bird as it flutters its wing. Retracing her hands, the wind lifts the bird, carrying it to a tree near her own. The wind grows from a simple breeze, the haunting whistle filling her eardrums but not one hair on her head is displaced. The bird turns around a limb, and a man steps out in its place.

She starts to her feet in one swift motion, almost about to give up her mortal mask and retreat to her kingdom but the inhuman man stops her.

“Please, I mean you no harm. I wish to converse with you.” His voice touches her, a river cascading over rocks. She can now see his energy, a deity, just like her. His mortal mask gives away his origin. A kimono wraps over his torso but one sleeve slips lower to let his left side of his chest feel the sun. Dressed in dark green with black accents, he opens his arms, waiting on her.

“Who are you,” she asks, aware of what a war would break out among the heavens if either of them cause harm in the vicinity of the other.

“I am Fūjin, god of the wind.” He answers her, still open to her. “I couldn’t bring myself to greet you at first, but you requested my company.”

Another god, not of her blood and energy. Far away, his man lives under their own gods. She knows of his tales. One of the most powerful being to rule, and he hides his true form from her, just as she does him.

And he waits on her.

“Fūjin,” she bows, draping her skirt out with one hand. “I am honored by your presence but I believe it would be best if we do not dwell in each other’s presence anymore.” She straightens, keeping her tone calm and level but praying that he does not misunderstand her meaning.

A small grin touches his pink lips. “I do not worry about other’s spying on us. I would know and am shielding us now. Zeus will not be angered.”

Meetings like this do not happen, for fear of a war between the neighboring gods because of insult or injury. He speaks with ease, not of malice and antagonism. She is not disguising her concern well.

“As I said before, I mean no harm. I am simply curious for I have not met another god not of my energy.” He waits, viewing her tense body and tightened brow. She views the garden, as if worrying of Apollo or Hermes catching sight of her, but the powerful god stills under her gaze. Dark irises shimmer with unearthly shades of brown, beauty of its own kind.

“Neither have I,” she slowly answers, settling herself. “You are far from your man’s land.”

Another grin pulls at his lips, mischievous and playful as he takes a step forward. He waits, but when she does not tense he comes forward.

“The wind is my creation. I go where I please.” The voice of a river crashes with pride, but his gaze is kept warm upon her. “I was simply wandering, but I found a beautiful goddess. Is your name perhaps Aphrodite?”

A laugh slips from her mouth at the assumption. The wind rustles his clothes, playing through his black hair but she does not feel its soft touch.

“I am Nike. Goddess of victory, speed and strength.” She parts her lips to speak once more but he dips his upper body in a bow. Swift and steady before returning her gaze. Another god has never respected her as such.

“Nike,” he breathes water over her mortal form, causing her energy to shiver, “May I keep you company?”

* * *

She slips away from her royal home to meet the powerful god who melts into a smile upon her appearance. Among the trees and grass they converse, telling stories of their own families and the mortals they watch over. A playful breeze always seems to touch his person, tugging his black locks or playing with his robe. When he laughs at a comment about how impatient her sister Hermes can be, the wind rustles her hair. Emitting from his force and touching her skin.

His father and brother are one of the most powerful gods to rule over their man. They are strict and merciless, but he finds other things more interesting than making a mere mortal cower in terror at his name.

It’s at this revelation that she tells him of her man. Of the warriors who fight for their children and spouses. Their prayers are always the strength of her being, desperate and hopeful. Their worship is pure and untainted, given out of love and not of fear. As she speaks of offerings and statues made for her blessings, his lips part.

“You are fond of the mortals.” A statement made upon a bed of river rock.

“They are our children,” she opens her hand, conjuring laurel leaves in her palm. “They are foolish and reckless, sharp and hard, but they love. They love with kindness and compassion. They are in our image, after all. How can we love ourselves and not our own creations?”

Her fingers take one leaf, letting his breeze wave it in a silent hello as she upholds it. Delicately, as he sits beside her in the grass, his fingers twine around one of her symbols. She lets him have it, twirling it with deep thought as he presses it to his lips.

“They love you.” The deep movement of his irises presses to her vision. Her laurel is stained with his breath as the wind touches her shoulders. She breathes, and feels his being radiate with her own.

“Their love fills me just as mine fills them.” She lets the few laurels left in her palm go. They catch the breeze, dancing among the olive trees before he scatters them around their bodies. His hand still presses her laurel to his mouth, and he closes its eyes against the earthly scent. It moves something soft inside of her at his gentle touch to one of her sacred images.

She gets to her feet, catching his attention at her abruptness. Offering her arm, he meets her with a confused gaze.

“Come, I must show you something.”

He breezes to her side, unnaturally quick movement given by his wind. His arm accepts her hand as she leads him. It’s a soft comfort to actually touch him even though it’s akin to touching a mask. It is not truly him, nor does he feel her real form, but the closeness sends her energy sparking.

“Nike?” He asks, intrigued but walking in step with her. She slows for only a moment to lean up and whisper in his ear. Her breath tickles his jawline but he stays steady for her.

“I wish to show you our man.” With a wave of her hand, her clothing changes to dark patchy clothes. A hood hides her blonde hair and he stares before mimicking the design. Peasants, and perfectly in disguised.

The market street she leads him into is buzzing with mortals. She keeps both hands on his arm, but guides him through the masses. A hood hides his inhuman irises but she steals looks from the corner of her vision. He is unblinking, turning his eyes in every direction as if to memorize the infant crying in a mother’s arms, or the young couple carrying baskets of bread to their home.

The god’s man. Her children. He marvels at their love and life, seeing for the first time.

They carry through, stopping only once to buy bread from a woman with a child tugging at her skirt. He smiles when she creates a coin to buy the human substance, but says nothing as they retreat. The bread tastes warm and hearty, but it unneeded to fuel their bodies. Still, they rip pieces off and she presses the first piece to his lips. He laughs around the bite, causing her to downcast her gaze and hide her red smile.

“Thank you,” he breathes, taking her hands within his steady palms. “For sharing that with me.” He feels close, and the wind comes off his skin in soft scents of leaves and fruit. Sweetly, it touches her face as she mesmerizes the shape of his hands.

“Of course.” She speaks softly, a breeze tugging a lock of blonde hair free.

He loosens one hand from her grip, and tucks the stray hair back behind her ear. Her body holds still, her energy rising with his fingertips against the shell of her ear. It touches a spot inside of her, the center of her being that hides behind so many things but never from his presence.

He asks if they can meet again, like so many times before. She gives the same answer.

* * *

The olive tree’s leaves occupy his fingers as he waits under the shade. If he holds still enough, he appears as the statues the mortals carve. Beautiful, encased in the rock and timeless. As she greets him, the statue breaks into a river, warm and embracing as it tumbles around her.

“What do you love?” She questions, watching his brow twitch before opening his eyes. A deep sigh moves through his mortal mask as he leans against a tree trunk.

“Flying.” His breath continues on, stalling but never finishing another word.

A smile pulls at her lips as she stands. She flutters her wings, taking the form of a white dove to rest along a branch. Her soft chirps catch his attention, and his head tilts only a few degrees before he smiles.

“My beautiful dove, may I join you?” He stands, and only a few delicate calls of her voice has him into a sparrow.

They chase each other through the greenery and soft wind. More than a few times she catches him using the breeze to angel a sharp turn and press his beak into the curve of her neck. He only chirps at her sharp calls, grudgingly letting herself soften at the sound. A delicate song of birds laces through the hidden vineyard as their wings brush each other’s.

The sun passes overhead, led by one of her own kind, before they settle back in their mortal forms. She steps back to her feet, walking as his hands take hers. Slow steps overcome them as they circle the other. Her hands reach, finding his shoulders as he takes her hips. Air swirls between them, never moving a lock on her head as he breathes against her. She stands on her tiptoes, and he receives her touch as they rest their heads together. The strong curve of his nose touches against hers. The very energy of his being and hers shimmer only inches apart.

“Nike.” His voice sends shivers down her spine, stirring ripples in her energy. “I do not know love, but I know you.”

He’s not apart from her, close enough to feel the electricity of a powerful being but not touching her lips. The fingers resting on her hips curl slightly, holding her gently. She turns her nose against his cheek.

This is a dangerous thing they fall into. Gods of different man do not mingle for the imbalance of power and pride. If Zeus or Hera were to see her embracing a powerful god of the east, the punishment for both of them would be unimaginable.

“Fūjin, we can’t.” She says, voice lowering in her grief though she still has her arms wrapped around his neck. “I do not have power like you or Zeus.”

“I will keep you safe,” his swift promise comes, already sealing her prediction of fear. His hand reaches her cheek, looking to her though she keeps her gaze downcast.

“I know,” her breath comes out silently. “That’s why I can’t endanger you like this.”

His thumb upon her cheekbone stills, but the energy flowing through his mask and cords make her believe of a different reality for them.

“Nike,” he clings to her, desperately as she controls her mortal body even though the sadness flows through it. Man cries, but the grief of the gods breaks worlds. “I do not know love, but I know you, and I fear that it is the same.”

She lifts her eyes, holding the burning irises that not even a mask could hide. A god of the wind, fallen for a goddess of victory. She turns the tides of the battles, and he creates hurricanes and destruction, but she fears of losing him. She fears he is the love Aphrodite embodies.

Gods are nearly impossible to kill, only another one can, but suffering is as true as the breeze swirling their bodies. If they cannot make death possible upon an enemy, they can make them wish for it. Still, life cannot exist without death.

Without love, what is suffering?

“Fūjin.” Her being shakes with her own power, even though little compared to other gods. He breathes against her, feeling the energy flow from her. “I give you my blessing.”

Victory will bless him for as long as her embodiment rules the world. The wind swirls around them, kissing her skin but not whipping at her clothes or hair.

“As I give you mine.” He breaths, a piece of the breeze winding around her form.

Foolishly, she closes the space. Both their energies caress as their lips touch. They become one, in power, in energy, and in love. They lose their mortal masks, their embodiment too much to hold a steady form, and they take to their own heaven. A simple vineyard, under a starry sky where no man nor god sees the different worlds colliding.

She takes her true form, and his hands are the only to ever grace her wings. He sheds the human face and shows her red markings and fangs. The fear radiating through his soul is cleaned away by her fingertips. He speaks, telling her of finding her beauty first, then falling for her very soul. His appearance, his man calls it an oni, is not worthy of her presence, but her lips press to him on every surface. The gray thoughts wash away. He is not like her people, clean and white clothed. Horns and fangs and red markings cover him. The great god of the east with the power to destroy.

He is more beautiful than any god she has ever beheld.

They speak words intangible to mortals. Dancing in the way only gods can. The wind and speed and strength are part of their energy. She hears its whispers. He knows the joys of victory, and the prayers behind it. There is no physical line to stop them from crossing into each other. They exist within one another. Completely whole.

And when Apollo pulls the sun back upon their little heaven, they rest upon the grass. Mortal masks let them touch each other’s faces while mimicking something like rest. For a few precious moments, they hold each other.

They exist as one without fear.

* * *

“Nike.” Her sister calls, approaching her with swift movement.

“Aphrodite.” She turns, facing the elegant goddess. She is the incarnation of beauty and love. When she graces mortal ground, which is rare besides to smite a mortal for claiming more beauty than she, her appearance shifts on those who behold her. She becomes what they find the most lovely, and all gravel at her throne.

Now, she lets her long hair swing back in a ponytail. It’s the form she most prefer, pale skin with locks so dark they’re almost blue. Her irises shine a brilliant gold, sharp and set entirely on her.

“Where have you been?” she asks coolly. Not with suspicion or demand, but appearing with simple curiosity. Her wings settle against the curve of her spine, guarded but light.

“Mortals have been praying for me. You know there is always conflict.” Her smooth reply has no effect on her expression, and the goddess shifts her thick mane of hair. It drapes down her shoulder as her eyes burrow through her.

“I wouldn’t love a mortal, Nike. They break easily.” Her brow is raised, bored but watching her expression. The cold words wrap around the tips of her feathers, pressing her down. How foolish it is to think she can hide her new found love from Aphrodite.

“I know.” She also knows the irony that flows off her sister. Throughout the ages Aphrodite has always found a mortal man to her liking, burning his love just to bask in the warmth. Those poor souls rarely ever get happy endings.

“Good. I don’t want you getting hurt, little one.” She clicks her tongue, moving a lock of hair from her eyes before going on her way. The pressing presence of Aphrodite leaves, and she lets anger touch through her for one moment. 

Her status as a goddess is not that of Zeus’s and Hera’s, but she is Athena’s right hand. Victory and speed and strength exist because she does. Her sister always views her as beneath her great divide love, but she does not know the touch of it like she.

The anger is released with quite tension. Her love is known but not that he is a god of the east. He is safe. Aphrodite has yet to find them.

Carefully unfurling her wings, she glides from her pure home to meet him in the vineyard. Their secret still resting undisturbed in her ribcage.

* * *

When dawn breaks, she kisses his cheek before departing. Her wings open across the skies before returning to Olympus, an eternal being he stills marvels at. Their time together is precious, although minutes and hours hold no meaning in immortality. She makes it matter, the moment he gets to trace his fingers over her shoulders and to the sensitive spot at the base of her wings.

Freedom is truly with her. His mortal form is more of a mask than other gods, but he does not fear facing her with his red markings and sharp horns. Many of his man have trembled and warned of his divine wrath, but she is the only one to feel the caress of his gentle breeze.

She worries of angering the other gods with their love. Her fears will be put to rest. He is his own power, and no god, from her energy or his, will part them. Only a few time has he felt prying eyes trying to see him or Nike, but his own power hides them. They cannot be viewed unless found.

He twists the laurel leaf between his fingers, smelling the mild greenery of her gift. His sparrow feathers keep her company, and one or twice she has braided them into her hair. A smile moves his lips at the soft happiness radiating from her frame when she showed him the golden locks entwined with a patterned feather. A true goddess of light and beauty.

As he rises to his feet, he does not see the swan hiding in the distance.

* * *

Athena’s temple is white against the black background of the night sky. Soft candles and lanterns flickering inside of the stone walls, casting the statue of the goddess in ghostly shadows. She tends to the temple, hearing prayers from humble mortals. Very few kneel down upon the ground tonight, and in the quiet light she gives her blessings.

The presence of strong energy illuminate outside the walls. Aphrodite calls to her. The words of her dear sister strikes anxieties within her. Fūjin stains her eyelids, but she goes to the temple’s entrance.

“Nike,” she speaks, holding a mortal form upon the steps. The great fury and narrowed brow upon her face confirms her fears. “You have lied to me.”

She swallows, having prepared for such a scenario for some time.

“Aphrodite, you cannot interfere with us.” She speaks boldly, secure because of the temple threshold she stands in. Her own energy burns, victory burning at her fingertips but the goddess of love only sets her glare upon her.

“This is foolish. An eastern god has no right to touch you, much less a demon like that.” Her sharp voice cuts through stone. If her true form were unleashed here, blue skin and burning eyes would ignite any mortals within range. “You must stop this. You do not truly love him.”

Her own anger stirs inside her already heated body. Her love, her own choice, will not be governed by anyone, not even Zeus.

“We have chosen each other. It is too late.” She states, and the meaning is not lost within her sister’s eyes. Wide, held in disbelief before white hot anger slants them. The love between them cannot be broken, not even she has the power to manipulate this now.

She comes upon the steps, advancing upon her but she holds steady in the temple of Athena.

“Did not enter. Athena will not hesitate to strike you.” Her unmoving form watches anger warp the pretty features on the mortal mask she hides behind. The expression crosses her face, revealing her true eyes for a moment, but she does not attack. Her shoulders heave as energy crackles between her fingertips, but Nike only stands in front of the fire.

Aphrodite turns her back, bearing only a sharp look over her shoulder. “Zeus will destroy him.”

“If you tell Zeus of us, he’ll punish you as well for enabling it.” Her triumphant goes to her name once again.

Another look of the goddess’s rage, and the flowers on the grounds wilt into ash as she descends the steps.

“Do not go back to the vineyard, _sister_.” Her tongue cuts through the word, sharp as a dagger. “You cannot hide from my sights.”

The goddess of love shifts into a swan, one of her many symbols before taking to the skies. Her energy only settles when her sister is far gone, and she returns to the temple and its peaceful visitors.

Fūjin carries heavily in her heart as she paces the stone grounds. They meet at the grove every nightfall. He must be warned, and know that they are both in danger. Aphrodite has crafted her own punishments before, and thoughts of what she could do to her love are unthinkable.

He has promised his protection, just as she hers.

She is the goddess of victory. She will not lose him.

* * *

Dim starlight begins to pepper the sky. Stars peek out from the veil of black as an entity comes to their spot in the vineyard. The presence is strong, but off from the one he expects.

Nike smiles upon him as her bare feet touch the ground.

“Fūjin,” she breathes out in a soft voice. Rich and flowing but a pitch off of what he knows.

“Nike.” He greets, not showing his hesitation. Allowing the goddess to step forward, her arms are open. His energy moves towards her, her light hair and familiar smile tugging him closer. He wants to know her like the night they first embraced.

But something’s not quite right in the shine of her mortal mask.

“I’ve missed you.” She whispers against his neck. His hand holds her hips, familiar curves against his palm but his lips don’t search for hers.

“As have I.” He speaks, voice laced with desperate urging but only for the listener’s ears. Her hands trail up the sides of his torso, following the line of muscle until her fingertips touch his throat. Reaching up, her lips seek his. Nike, but not his.

This is not the goddess he knows.

His fingers snatch her wrists, pulling her away as the wind snaps through the trees. Howling from the sudden burst of air grows, and the tree limbs bow at the pressure. Wind circles the imposter, shaking her hair as startled eyes flashes gold for one moment.

“Where is she,” he hisses, and the goddess snarls before him, still trapped in his grasp.

“She is not yours, eastern god.” She spits, contouring the face he’s come to know in sharp lines. Her energy burns at his fingers holding her wrists, but it is only a nuisance. She does not compare to his strength.

“Do not test my patience, goddess. I will destroy you.” He bares his teeth, the wind mercilessly beating leaves and cloth against both their skin. His energy storms, willing to pull the very world apart to find Nike. “Tell me where Nike is.”

The hard anger turns into a small look of annoyance, before she tilts her chin for one moment. The gold irises shimmer back into view, but Nike’s mask holds on her face.

“Kiss me, and I’ll tell you where she lies.” Her voice is firm in the shaking wind. Confidence nestles in her expression, unconcerned as she plays with his expression.

“What,” he demands, ready to burn the mask away and tear apart the being before him. As if she has the power to ask him of such things.

“One kiss is simple, Fūjin.” Her gaze seals her small victory. “I want to know what an eastern god tastes like.”

A grimace crosses his mouth, disturbed by her demands. She holds still in his iron grasp, no fear crosses the mock hair swirling in the air. The mask reminds him of his situation. Desperate dreams of how far he’ll take Nike away from the danger when he comes upon her again touches his mind, and he inhales through the wind.

His mouth smashes against her in one quick moment, nothing sensual or passionate touches between their lips but he feels the sharp tug of her smile before he opens his eyes.

It floods his mouth, sharp and stabbing as it curls into his center. His being touched by the poison shimmering on her lips as he staggers back. A simple wave of her hand washes away the mask, and shows the dark substance on her mouth. The goddess stares down upon him. He chokes, feeling his own energy sputter and fight against the venom leaking into every corner.

“I am Aphrodite,” she speaks, unmoved by the wailing wind or his struggling breaths. “You broke your vow of love to Nike. You have earned my punishment.”

He falls to his knees, his mortal form frozen in place as he claws at his chest. It gags every part, even deafening his wind but it only lets it grow stronger. It attacks her clothes and dark swinging ponytail but his power is stalled by the poison.

“Where’s Nike,” he grits between his teeth, choking.

“Demons don’t get to touch the light,” she murmurs sweetly, a coy sympathetic lull. “Your kind will never touch one of ours again.”

She flicks her hair, enjoying the sight of a great god withering on the ground.

“She’s at her temple. If she heeded my warning, she won’t watch you suffer.”

He cannot say anything more as his strength fails and he falls upon the ground. She straightens, and her form shifts into a beautiful white swan. The wind whips at the feathers that aren’t upon angel’s wings, and the goddess departs.

Fūjin rakes his fingers across the grass, pushing himself up to only fall back upon the dirt. Poison of a goddess, with deserved right, courses through every vein of his life. The wind ruffles his body, but his gifts cannot save him now.

She’s safe.

He betrayed her. Aphrodite will tell her of his lustful kiss, but not the truth behind it. She’ll think wrong of him. His mind refuses the image of her forsaking him. The only goddess to glimpse his true form and not mock the crudeness of his features.

His dove.

A single feather springs from his garments. One from her true form, her wings that symbolizes victory and strength and speed. She plucked it, and pressed in into his hands. The venom seeps deeper, reaching his core. He breathes out, letting his wind touch his hair. The feather is pressed against his lips as the poison stains every part of his being.

She’s safe.

* * *

She is quick. The sun just faded, and the stars fall upon her back. Her wings carry her, over the hill and into the small grove.

The vineyard is quiet, and she watches for a sparrow to chirp at her, inviting her to join him. The silence stretches, and she finds the tree they always rest under.

Fūjin lies upon the ground. His energy does not move.

She cries out his name, throwing herself upon him. Her hands take his shoulders, moving his head to rest in her lap as she finds a dark matter staining his lips. The sight stops her, signaling Aphrodite’s punishment.

The receiver can only be poisoned if they willingly kiss Aphrodite’s lips, betraying their love. Proof of the need of the punishment.

He stirs, fingers grasping hers weakly as his eyes refuse to open.

Her love…

“Have you forsaken me?” Her whispered breath touches him. Her energy shakes, making her words crack as he stirs again.

“Nike…” His eyes flutter, and a finger brushes her cheek.

“I do not know love but I know you.” The weak voice he speaks on barely reaches her, but she receives his safe proclamation as before.

The same truth is spoken like the first night they embraced. Its light shines in her soul. She bows her head. Inches apart, her lips hover over the venom staining his. Her breath trembles, but she speaks her truth.

“And I fear that it is the same.”

Her blessing and being presses against him. Aphrodite’s poison comes upon her. Leaving the great god of the east, she takes the punishment. Slowly, it sticks against her throat and crawls into her soul. The god before her awakens, no longer held down by death’s sleep and calls her name. The poison finds her energy, and fills her with black ink.

“No.” He begs, rising as she falters. His arms already hold her, the crook of his neck serves as a pillow for her head. “Please, give it back. You cannot take this from me. It is my punishment.”

“My love,” she murmurs through the venom, “You will not be lost to me.”

The great god’s lips part, brow drawn in desperation as he presses a hand to her hair. Thousands of pleads reach her, but none are accepted as the poison takes her embodiment. Her mortal form falls away, and wings fall into the grass as the last of her strength is ripped from her veins. Feathers of silver, bronze and light begin withering.

“Nike,” the quiet river breaks into a flood, “Save yourself. I will take it from you.”

“I know,” she breathes.

Her victory still stands.

She reaches for him, and he does not withdraw her last request. His kiss touches her brow, her eyelids. Soft flutters of his lips as a breeze swirls her hair, invisible hands remembering the color. Lifting her hands, laurels form between her fingers. A crown of green and protection. A caress against her cheek, a whisper of her name.

She can’t put it in his lap, but he sees her gift with shining eyes. He lifts her, pressing her cheek against his, one hand cradling her head as she breathes out. Her lips brush the corner of his mouth as he cries out. Wind billows around, but never rips at her clothes. The god’s grief tears the grove apart.

The goddess’s energy fades. Shattered dust of gold blankets the olive trees. The eastern god is left with only a crown of laurels, and an empty chest. The last gift of his love.

He calls out her name, a final plea.

Silence answers.

Slow, pale fingers press the crown upon his head.

A king of a broken heart.


End file.
